To Lose Half of One's Soul
by sunnywinterclouds
Summary: Because for the last thirty years, there's never been a question of whether or not he'd be there.


Gus doesn't notice anything wrong with Shawn when he bursts into the station and promptly collapses in his arms. He'd recently texted him that he'd cracked their latest case, and to wait for him at the station, and now he's probably going to have a psychic vision in front of everyone and this is just a rather embarrassing part of it.

He doesn't notice anything wrong with Shawn when his head falls limply onto his shoulder and he slumps completely against him. He's not holding himself up at _all._ That's just like him, to try and topple Gus over and solve a case at the same time. Any minute now he's going to jump up and put his finger to his forehead and _divine _something loudly to the entire police force.

"Shawn, get off me!"

He doesn't respond, so Gus grabs his shoulders and wrenches him back. He falls onto him again, his face now buried in his shirt.

"Don't you dare go boneless on me, Shawn."

He still doesn't notice anything wrong with him. Maybe if his best friend was a normal guy who didn't barge into police stations and put on a huge show every single time he solved a case, he'd be worried. But he's not. It's just Shawn.

And then he throws up on him. Gus notices there might be something wrong with him, but he's a lot less concerned about Shawn than the fact that he just puked all over his clothes.

"Shawn, that's disgusting! What –"

Gus shoves him away, and instead of reeling back on his feet and laughing at him or grimacing or (far less likely) apologizing, he collapses with a _thump_ onto the floor.

There's blood on his face.

A quick look downward shows that what he'd spit up on Gus's chest was blood as well, and there's a bit of blood on his shoulder and now there's blood trickling down Shawn's jaw and onto the floor.

There's something definitely wrong.

He gives himself credit for not passing out – he's actually quite proud, because this is far scarier than the dead bodies he's now grown almost used to discovering. Seeing his best friend on the floor, only the whites of his eyes visible and foam slowly forming on the edge of his mouth, is much more traumatizing than any crime he's witnessed so far.

In a minute, Lassiter is there, at first angry at Shawn for his antics and then calling for an ambulance as he checks for a pulse. Then Juliet is there, cradling his head in her lap and trying to coax him into staying awake, and then the chief is yelling orders and someone's calling Henry and all he can do is stand there and watch, his blue button-down shirt stained with blood and his face stained with horror.

It's like a dream.

He can hear Chief Vick asking him what happened,_ did someone poison him were you there how long has he been like this did he mention anything is this the case we're working on do you know anything? _He tunes her out, because his best friend is lying limp on the floor and Juliet is crying and maybe he should cry too because Shawn's eyes are rolled back in to his head and Lassiter says he can't feel a heartbeat anymore.

Gus feels himself starting to tremble, and as if on cue Shawn starts to shake too, violent spasms and Juliet grabs his hand and _I should grab the other one, shouldn't I_ so he kneels down and tries to hold on to his friend's fingers and it's hard because he's convulsing and his palms are so sweaty and cold.

They're so cold.

He presses the back of his hand against Shawn's cheek, and that's cold too. He wishes his face was burning hot, because then he'd have a fever and that would be bad but cold is over, cold is gone, cold is death.

But he's not dead. Not yet.

His eyes are still open. And then his pupils roll back into place, dilated but seeing, and he looks straight at Gus and then he closes his eyelids.

"Gus, buddy…"

It's so soft. He thinks he imagined it, but and Juliet laughs a little laugh and tells him he's gonna be okay and Shawn just tugs on Gus's hand.

"Gus."

He gets it.

This is the end.

It's been a thirty year journey, the best one of his life, one that _is_ his life, has been as long as he can remember, and it's over. It's been fun, full of laughs, and he's been given a friendship that most people never get to experience. He knows that when the spasms stop, so will Shawn's heart, and Gus will lose half of who he is. And for a minute or two, his heart will stop as well. He'll stop breathing and he'll let a little part of him die, die with his best friend, and then he'll open his eyes and live his life alone. He's never been alone, not truly. In some way or another, Shawn's always been there. Even when he didn't want him to be. _Especially_ when he didn't want him to be.

He'd been there.

"I know, Shawn."

His voice is quiet, too, and it cracks just a little because he's never been strong. When he's with Shawn, he's stronger, because together they can survive _anything_ and maybe that's why his best friend is dying, because Gus wasn't with him.

He smiles, and opens his eyes again and he looks so at peace that Gus almost doesn't notice the tear that's running down his cheek.

He stops convulsing, and his eyes stop seeing, and Gus cries, too.

For the great friend that he's lost, and the even greater friendship.


End file.
